surely flies. The more I think back, I feel it was a very
graceful departure. It was right after Akira Kurosawa’s
“Maadadayo” had finished filming.
At the time, I was still
living in New York. One morning (midnight Japan time), my home
phone suddenly rang, and on the other end of the line was the drunken
voice of my Father. A man who never once made an international
call on his own had decided to give me a call. It was right after
attending a wrap-up celebration of the film. He was speaking for
quite a long time. It was the first time I ever heard him so
excited and expressing how happy he felt. It’s a very funny
thing… at that moment, I had actually felt “something”. And
I also felt envious of my Father, who always and to the end possessed
the sincerity like that of a child.
No matter which film of his
you look at, not one was just a monster flick. From one end of
the frame to the other, each and every extra had his own role and
purpose. That is the work of my Father.
He was hospitalized a few days after the phone call. And then a week later…
As his centennial approaches step by step, the sound of his footsteps get louder by the day.